All There Ever Was
by Bachy A
Summary: 05.02.04 - Ch. 6 HERE! As the war against Voldemort rages on, humanity must unite in the face of tragedy as three legends race to meet their destinies...
1. Fury Revived

**~ All There Ever Was ~**

**Author: **Bachy A

**E-Mail: **screenwriter7@msn.com

**Website: **www.remnant-archive.0catch.com

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter...neither do I own J.K. Rowling. I don't own Warner Brothers – basically, I own nothing even closely related to Harry Potter. This story is meant to be pure fiction created by me using the characters of this series.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: Fury Revived

Darkness crept through the trees. An ever-extending shadow seemed to sweep down, penetrating all that lay before it.

But this was no normal shroud, not one brought upon the world through its own cyclical nature...

No, this darkness moved forward because of the will that drove it, the presence that rolled over all it saw and wrung the very life from what lay before it...

And at the center of that darkness, two beings stood, one cloaked in its essence...and the other seeming to cower before it...

"Wormtail, this is going to be the last time: Tell me now..."

The small man shivered at the sound of the voice. Quivering, his knees bowed to the ground, he began to wonder. Peter Pettigrew had always thought himself to be clever, able to pull himself from any sticky situation...

...But what he thought, and what reality actually appeared to be, were two totally different things...

"_CRUCIO!!!_"

In an instant, Wormtail fell to the ground, screaming shrilly as he clutched his body, rocking on the ground as tremors washed through him.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. A small cry escaped Wormtail's lips as the absence of pain began to return.

The high voice returned, its tones ringing in his ears.

"Wormtail!!!"

He slowly brought his face up, his breathing ragged as he struggled to make out the dark shape before him. Slowly, he spoke, shaking as he tried to raise himself up.

"M-master...I don't...I don't know..."

"_CRUCIO!!!_"

A fresh howl rose into the night air as Wormtail crumbled back to the ground. He felt knives rush through every facet of his body...it seemed to go on and on, never wanting to stop...

...Until it did.

He lay there, twitching more violently than before and gasping uncontrollably.

"Now, Wormtail," the cold voice demanded, "I suggest that you tell me what I want to know...for your sake..."

Wormtail's eyes seemed to bulge slightly. He took in a deep, shaking breath, and slowly brought himself to his knees.

"Yes, Master...It's H-Harry Potter, m-my lord..."

An impatient discharge of breath silenced Wormtail's words.

"Harry Potter," said the high voice, its tones dripping with contempt. "Harry Potter...when is it _not_ Harry Potter??"

The malice that fell from his master's tongue caused Wormtail to shake a little harder, whimpering slightly.

A frozen chuckled floated through the pitched shroud.

"Still cringe at the sound of my voice, Wormtail?"

Wormtail's gaze quickly shifted upwards, his need to profuse his loyalty radiating from his very eyes.

"N-no Master...I would _never_..."

"Silence."

The calmness in his master's voice betrayed what truly resided inside – Wormtail knew this, better than most, and instantly held still.

He could see the dark form of his master, standing there among the blackened trees. A hand rose, thoughtfully scratching a shrouded chin. To Wormtail, ages seemed to pass before his master spoke again.

"It is time, Wormtail. Time for me to act...Time for me to be rid of the meddlesome pest and all who follow in his wake."

As his master drew his body up, Wormtail caught an illuminated glimpse of the aged face, deathly white, and eyes recognizable only as slits...

...Cares and concerns of a world long forgotten lay on it, readable to all those who chose to see.

"Many long years have passed, Wormtail. My chances to destroy Harry Potter have come, again and again...and yet, through all my efforts, the boy has endured."

"But now, he shall endure no longer. He has reached the end of his pitiful rope. I will not stand by any longer, now while he is allowed to live."

A long, bony hand peeked out from the black curtain of the night, its index finger pointing menacingly at Wormtail.

"You, Wormtail...You are the one who will bring Harry Potter to me..."

If at all possible, the fear inside of Wormtail's being seemed to double, feeding the fire of anxiety that already smoldered in his soul.

He had before been assigned the very same task: to bring Harry Potter to his master. Every single attempt had verged on success, until that last moment when the boy would always seem to slip away.

His master was giving him another chance...but this time, it was different. 

Harry Potter was no longer a boy...and those loyal to him were now more powerful than ever...

"Master," he said, gulping slightly. "M-master, I...I'm not sure..."

Another impatient snuffle escaped his master's mouth.

"Not sure? You have failed me many times, Wormtail. Many times have you forced me to question your worth..."

"M-master, I am a l-loyal s-servant..._I always have been_..."

Once again, a cold laugh penetrated into Wormtail's very heart. 

"Loyal, Wormtail? Hmmm...that remains as a mater of debate..."

Wormtail saw the brush quiver slightly as his master rose above it.

"It is Harry Potter's last chance to escape me...and in a way, it is also your last chance, Wormtail..."

Wormtail's breath seemed to catch as he waited for his master to continue.

"You will bring me Harry Potter...I believe you remember what will happen should you fail me yet one...more...time..."

A shudder ran through Wormtail's squat frame. He did indeed remember...

...And it was something that he had absolutely no desire to experience...

"Do you understand me, Wormtail...?"

A suppressed nod was all that Wormtail could manage. He continued to sit there on the ground, letting time pass, until he heard his master's laugh again, one that chilled him down to the bone...

"Yes, Wormtail...I know it now..."

Wormtail glanced up...and gasped. His master's face loomed above him, perfectly illuminated by the waning moonlight. It's mouth stretched into a wide grin...

"Harry Potter will not escape me this time..."

With that, he let out another laugh, this one more terrifying than any before...

...And in that place...in a forest now blanketed by darkness...it had become apparent that evil had once again taken a stand...

Lord Voldemort had returned...

...and this time, nothing would be able to stand in his way...

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**A/N: **Not terribly exciting, but this chapter is meant to set things up. I have much, much more planned, so stay tuned!


	2. Visions in the Dark

**~ All There Ever Was ~**

**Author: **Bachy A

**E-Mail: **screenwriter7@msn.com

**Website: **www.remnant-archive.0catch.com

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter...neither do I own J.K. Rowling. I don't own Warner Brothers – basically, I own nothing even closely related to Harry Potter. This story is meant to be pure fiction created by me using the characters of this series.

**SPOILERS: **If you haven't read Order of the Phoenix, and you don't want anything spoiled, you might want to steer away from this for now.

**UPDATES: **Chapter 2...please bear with me – the early chapters are meant to set up the story. I hope you all find it interesting anyway...

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Chapter 2: Visions in the Dark

Hundreds of miles away, a tall, thin man with unruly black hair slept, unaware of troubles in the world around him...

...Unaware, only because there was much else occurring in the recesses of his mind.

Dreams populated his thoughts, some playing out his fears, some presenting tales of the unimaginable...

...and some reliving memories long ago stifled, memories that he had no desire to witness a second time.

Life was not easy for the young man named Harry Potter. But then again...life had _never_ been easy for him...The captured pictures in his mind were proof enough of that...

The visions brought by sleep would not leave him. On and on, over and over they ran, filling his troubled heart with the kind of tension that only realized fears bring...and through it all, life retold itself, a swirling mass of images that he had tried for so long to bury.

* * *

_It was supposed to have been a happy time, one filled with the utmost joy and prospects for life ahead. But..._

_...it didn't hold any of that, now..._

_He had never before experienced such dread, and solemnity – even the characteristic stability of Dumbledore hadn't been able to bring under control the fears that ran rampant through them all._

_Panic seemed to spread everywhere, like the deadliest of plagues. It was taking hold of everyone, and even the most stringent efforts of those in charge to quell the situation could not erase the anxiety._

_No one had really heard the words spoken on that day, their last of schooling life. Words no longer seemed to matter – no amount of fair speaking could bring solace...or comfort. Nothing was left...nothing except the dread that lay upon their minds._

_By the end of their 7th year, Harry's entire class had learned the general wording of the prophecy, the prediction that had been made so long ago. They knew that while the final inevitability may, for a while, dance just out of reach...it would eventually speed to its final judgment._

_Harry Potter and his greatest enemy, Lord Voldemort, could not both continue to live...not while they both stood on opposing ground._

_Horrible times, much like those that had come before, loomed on the horizon. And every single person knew it._

_During that last gathering in the Great Hall, Harry had noticed the same blank, vacant expression on every single face. The same terror had descended upon them all, unannounced...there was no escaping it._

_Of course, that had only applied to those present. He noticed, with an ever-increasing sense of fury, that the likes of Malfoy, along with his cronies Crabbe and Goyle, were nowhere to be seen._

_During the coarse of the ceremony, the only feeling that managed to somewhat override the terror inside of him was pure malice. It had only managed to raise...visions of Malfoy, clad in a hooded cloak, off to join his father..._

_It had been too much – the combined anxiety and anger that ran through him drove him to depart the Hall, leaving both Ron and Hermione with confused expressions on their faces._

_~{:*:}~_

_Much later, after the ceremony had reached its end, both of his friends had caught up with him. Even then, no matter how hard he tried...he couldn't tell them, couldn't explain how it felt to know that destiny much reach its conclusion..._

_...That either he or Voldemort had to die...There was no other way..._

_~{:*:}~_

_And yet, even through all of that, there was another eventuality that loomed upon them, one whose level of anxiety and sadness nearly rivaled that which they had all been facing..._

_...For the first time in seven years, they would be heading down separate paths, away from each other..._

_It hurt Harry to know that they would have to live their lives apart. Ron and Hermione had been his closest friends, the people he had trusted above nearly all others._

_He had wanted to tell them both how much they meant – but with the prospects of war on the horizon...little else seemed to matter any more._

_And so he left it alone, simply because that was the way it had to be..._

* * *

Harry's body stirred slightly in his sleep, a small cry escaping from his throat.

A feverish sweat seemed to break out on his forehead as he moved, slowly beginning to thrash in his bed.

* * *

Darkness...darkness all around him, penetrating into his very being. Nothing could be seen...not in front, nor side-to-side – the pitched shroud covered everything.

_Everything except..._

_"Harry.........Harry........."_

_That voice...he knew it so well, and yet...for the life of him, he could not place it._

_"Harry.........Hary...........Harry..........."_

_He listened, on and on. The spectral voice called to him, urgency beginning to resonate within its tones._

_He began to run, trying hard to follow the voice to its source. His breathing moving in and out, faster and faster..._

_He turned...and there before him...he saw it..._

_... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..._

_... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..._

_... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..._

_"HARRY!!!!"_

* * *

With a loud gasp, Harry woke, quickly sitting up and breathing heavily. Leaning back against the headboard, he wiped his sweaty brow.

He shot a quick glance around his darkened bedroom.

Nothing...there was nothing there...

...Nothing was ever there...

And yet, night after night, he continued to have the foreboding feeling that, somehow, the fears played in his dreams meant something, something other than what was shown.

_What did I see? _he thought. He tried and tried, but no recollection of the imagery would come to him.

He did know one thing: whatever it had been...whatever he had seen...

...It had inspired an unparalleled fear in him, one that had never, ever been matched before...

Again, he looked around his room...

_... ..._Nothing_... ... ... ...always nothing... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..._

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

He lay back, trying his best to steady his breathing. Thoughts raced through his addled mind.

Every night...every _single_ night had been the same since he had left Hogwarts.

He shifted under the blankets, trying to settle himself. He reluctantly closed his eyes, knowing full and well that sleep would not easily come again this night.

It never did.

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**A/N: **Sorry about the abhorrent length of this chapter – I hope the whole flashback/dream thing wasn't too boring to read.

P.S.

Thanks to you few (*sniff*) reviewers thus far. When I get some more, I will thank each of you properly at the end of each chapter.


	3. Those Times Gone By

**~ All There Ever Was ~**

**Author: **Bachy A

**E-Mail: **screenwriter7@msn.com

**Website: **www.remnant-archive.0catch.com

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter...neither do I own J.K. Rowling. I don't own Warner Brothers – basically, I own nothing even closely related to Harry Potter. This story is meant to be pure fiction created by me using the characters of this series.

**SPOILERS: **Nothing other than my own stuff in this chapie! ;-)

**UPDATES: **Things start to make more sense here – you'll begin to understand what kind of situation the wizarding world is in after Harry's graduation from Hogwarts. Enjoy!

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Chapter 3: Those Times Gone By

Activity bustled within the Ministry of Magic – bodies traversed the gleaming floors, a constant murmur of acknowledgment and the occasional conversation passing between them.

It no longer seemed to matter which branch of the Ministry officials belonged to – Departments of Wizarding Sports, Mysteries, Accidental Charms and Muggle Artifacts...every one of them seemed to have the same singular purpose, now....

"Mr. Weasley? The Mistress will see you now."

Ron's reverie fell away as the young secretary's voice floated through the stuffy air. Standing, he nodded, gesturing for her to lead the way.

Deftly moving through the crowd, the secretary headed for the far north end of the main floor. Ron, not having as easy a time navigating the sea of bodies, pushed his way through.

Shortly, he arrived at a large wooden door, in front of which the secretary stood. On the center of the door hung an engraved bronze plaque that read:

MISTRESS OF MAGIC 

The secretary held her arm out, inviting his entrance. He straightened his robes slightly as he moved forward. Opening the enormous door, he stepped into the office.

~{:*:}~

The office hadn't changed much since the days of Cornelius Fudge. The ancient oak desk still resided in the exact center of the room; bookshelves packed to the brim still stood against each of the four walls; two enormous windows lay on either side of the room, letting the sun's light stream in...

...Indeed, only one thing had transformed since those years, so long ago...

...The person to whom the office now belonged...

Ron allowed himself a small grin as her watched Hermione at the desk, the one that she had practically called home. His grin widened further upon seeing her brow furrowed in its familiar state of conversation, stacks of paperwork shadowing her face.

She was still the same old Hermione, the Hermione he had always known.

It took a moment before she finally realized that he was standing in front of her desk. She glanced up briefly before returning to the load of paper in front of her.

"Yes Ron, what is it?" she asked tersely.

The brusque tone of her voice surprised him – there was no "Hi Ron, how are you?" or "Great to see you Ron."

Simply "What is it?"

He knew how it had always been – he knew that Hermione had always been a bossy individual. But these days...indeed, for all the reasons he saw to the contrary, she no longer seemed to be the Hermione that he had always known.

Distracted, he gazed up at an enormous chart pinned to the wall. On it was the current hierarchy of the Ministry of Magic. Currently, however, hierarchy seemed to mean little – no longer did heads or members of departments stick with that same department...a time of war had changed all that.

"Ron...?"

Her voice quickly removed him from his reverie. He reached inside his robes and pulled out a piece of parchment. Unrolling it, he gently placed it on her desk.

"This is a list of those Death Eaters we suspect were involved in Martin Whitehald's murder. I've sent Lee and Peter out – I expect them to report back in a couple of days...we ought to know for sure by then..."

Hermione took the outstretched parchment and gazed at it briefly. Nodding, she set it down and went back to the paperwork in front of her.

Ron continued to stand before the desk, eying his friend with a visage that did not attempt to hide his concern.

Hermione scribbled a few notes before stopping, realizing that he was still there. She glanced up at him.

"Is there anything else?"

  
The unease on his face grew. Even in her worst moments, the times when she was most bossy and controlling, Hermione had _never_ been like this...not to him, at least. 

He understood that wartime did strange things to people, but even so...

Looking back up at her friend, realization quickly set in on Hermione's face. She sighed heavily and gave a sad half-smile.

"I'm sorry, Ron. Really, I am...It's just all been so much lately."

She stood up and began to pace, rather aimlessly, gesturing at certain odds and ends along the way.

"The Johnson's have been gone for three weeks, and we've heard neither head nor tail from them, and O'Conner still hasn't been tracked down, although I was assured that we were closer than before, and besides, I'm concerned that we aren't making enough progress with interrogating the Death Eaters that we _have_ captured..."

A slight chuckle brought her rant to an abrupt stop. Her brow furrowed slightly as she crossed her arms huffily.

"No, Hermione," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "I only meant...when was the last time you got out?"

An appalled look crossed Hermione's face, as if that was the most absurd question she had ever heard.

"Out!?! Ron, there is a _war_ going on! There are a million and more things to do every single day! I don't have time to..."

Another chuckle silenced her. She stared daggers at him, her mouth hanging open slightly.

"Ron!! _It is not a laughing matter..._"

Shaking his head, a large smile on his face, Ron sat in one of the chairs that lay in front of the large desk.

"Hermione, you have to get away from this...even if just for a little while. Look at what this job is doing to you! It's not healthy."

Hermione shook her head slightly, but some air of resignation lay on her face.

"I don't know what you mean..."

"You have circles under your eyes! The guards say you leave here extremely late, only to come back a couple of hours later! You're trying to do everything yourself...!"

Hermione opened her mouth, as if to refute such ridiculous claims...then stopped.

He was right...he was _so_ right...

"Hermione," he began, concern in his voice, "I know very well that your greatest concern right now is You Know Who."

He stood up and walked over to one of the large windows in the rear of the office. He stared at the crowds of people passing by for a moment...

"All those people out there...Muggles and Wizards alike...they're all depending on you, Hermione. They need you, whether they know it or not, to make the best decisions you can make."

He turned to face her again.

"And you cannot possibly do satisfy those demands when you bury yourself in as much work as possible..."

He walked closer to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"You can't carry the weight of everything all by yourself."

A tremendous, yet silent, sigh seemed to leave her. She reached up and rubbed her eyes. Blinking softly, she let them fall to the surface of the desk.

"I guess you're right, Ron..."

Ron smiled slightly, allowing himself to enjoy the moment through the tension of it all. Ever since they had been kids, it had been terribly difficult to best Hermione at any sort of argument.

It was a battle well won.

Hermione stood and walked back to the same window where Ron had stood moments before. A weak laugh escaped her lips.

"It _has _been a long time..."

Ron's smile grew wider. He glanced up at an hourglass that hung on the wall, and then back at Hermione.

"Come on, it's late enough. Let me take you to dinner."

She turned to face him. Slowly, she nodded.

"Alright, Ron."

He smiled again. He stood, grabbing her cloak off of its stand and helping her put it on.

As he walked side to side with her, he noticed that the cares and concerns of the present situation still lingering on her face. 

He had to try...he had to do his best to bring her through this.

He knew that, before the end, she would be greatly needed...

...and he had no intention of letting anything happen to her before that time...

~{:*:}~

The restaurant was an edifice that had been attached to the Ministry's main floor, its central purpose being to provide important Ministry officials with a place to eat (without being bothered by the common populace).

The gleaming interior of the restaurant matched that found in all parts of the Ministry. Service people bustled here and there, taking orders from the sparse Ministry crowd that actually bothered to come down.

Ron glanced at his menu quickly before putting it down – he had little need to look at it...having been here many times before, he had practically memorized its contents.

Hermione sat across from him, her own menu lain down on the table. She seemed to continually be bombarded with greetings from other Ministry officials – they were constantly giving their praise to her.

Ron allowed himself a small smile. The battle for Mistress of Magic had been a hard one, one that had definitely taken its toll on Hermione. At every turn, it had seemed like there was someone else, someone new trying to tear her down.

But that had never slowed her down – Muggle-born or not, she had been determined to enter the office to which she aspired...

And in the end, that fiery determinism had won out. She had accomplished the work of a lifetime, all at the age of 20.

His smile grew wider as he remembered the day when the news had come in: she had beaten her nearest opponent by 2% of the total vote. It had been a narrow victory, but a victory nonetheless.

No one could possibly deny that the best person for the job had won.

That day had been a special one: all the laughter, the partying; Ron, Hermione, and Harry together...

The smile quickly slipped off of Ron's face. Harry...

It was so easy to add Harry's name – for so long, that was how it had been. The three of them together.

But now... 

Thinking about Harry was too great a pain to bear...

"Ron?"

He quickly looked up, the sound of her voice ending the thoughts that had been floating through his head. Upon seeing the concern she displayed, he shook his head and smiled, warding off whatever suspicions had been going through her.

She smiled back.

"Thanks for bringing me here, Ron."

"No problem, Hermione."

The abruptness of the conversation caused them both to giggle slightly. 

Hermione brushed a lock of her cinnamon hair away from her face, her smile brighter than he had seen it in a long time.

"You know, Ron........"

He waited, but her eyes had suddenly left him. They were locked on something behind him, something that had caused her mouth to drop slightly.

Twisting around in his seat, he couldn't spot exactly what she was looking at...

...until...

He saw _him_, sitting there, by himself. Even shadowed by the darkness, he was still recognizable: his unruly black hair, his perfectly round glasses...every bit of it screamed **him**.

Ron saw him reach down, into the folds of his robes, and pull out a hip flask. Seeing him take a long swig, Ron got a better look at his face...and nearly fell out of his chair.

The same features were still there, but compared to his face, Hermione looked more perfect than she ever had. His face was paler than it had once been, the formerly emerald eyes now clouded and devoid of meaning.

The happiness, the innocence...the courage that had once stood on that face had long since faded into a dull façade, leaving no trace of what had once been. 

Turning back around, Ron glanced at Hermione...

...The shock and surprise in her face had led to something far deeper. Her chin quivered as a single tear fell from her eye.

Ron moved forward slightly, trying to comfort her, when she stood suddenly. Grabbing her cloak, she rushed off, heading towards the exit.

Ron stood, meaning to go after his friend. With one look back, he saw him there, still, as if nothing had changed.

Whipping around, he headed for the door, hoping he could reach Hermione in time.

~{:*:}~

Back in the now deserted main lobby, he heard the clacking of high heels off to his left. Sure enough, he saw her, running down the marble stairwell.

His legs being much longer than hers, he caught up to her in just a few moments. Grabbing her arm, he spun her around to face him...

"Hermione..."

He looked with horror to see more tears sparkling in her eyes. He moved forward, and stopped with a shake of her head.

A small cry escaped her lips as the remaining tears began to fall. She looked back up at him.

"I'm s-sorry, Ron..."

Without another gesture, she disapparated, leaving him with only a small _pop_.

He shook his head, sadness beginning to take him again. 

His only friend in the world had been hurt, so much that she had found it hard to look at him...

...all because of the man he had once called friend...

He turned, walking back towards the exit...thoughts flooding his mind.

He knew one thing to be sure...it would take an incredible amount to forgive the crimes of Harry Potter...

...but it would take more than a lifetime to forget the pain he had brought to them all...

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**A/N: **Oooh, kinda cliffy! Oh well, that means you'll be back, right? *sob* :)

**Hermione512:** Thanks for being the very first reviewer of this story. I hope I can please you with the continuation of this story.

**MlynnBloom:** I would be extremely honored to have your wonderful reviews at every chapter – to have you say that my writing smacks of the HP books themselves is a tremendous compliment. I do try to please – thanks so much. :)

**A.L.T2: **Hey, thanks for believing in my story. Sorry it's been a while since an update, but school is killer. You know how it is...thanks again!

**Lily:** Thanks for your review! If you like the opening chapters (where, let's be honest, not a whole lot happens except for plot set up), it is my hope you will like later ones.

**Emerald Prongs:** I'm really happy you like my fic – it certainly means a lot. Oh, and as to Harry and his dream? Well, you'll just have to wait and find out...trust me, though, it isn't one of those pointless, "filler" dreams – it has meaning... ;)


	4. From One

**~ All There Ever Was ~**

**Author: **Bachy A

**E-Mail: **screenwriter7@msn.com

**Website: **www.remnant-archive.0catch.com

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter...neither do I own J.K. Rowling. I don't own Warner Brothers – basically, I own nothing even closely related to Harry Potter. This story is meant to be pure fiction created by me using the characters of this series.

**SPOILERS: **OotP – some spoilerage in here, including a major one at that (the death of someone we loved).

**WARNINGS:** A bad word (but nothing worse than what Ms. Rowling used in OotP).

**UPDATES: **That last chapter, as I said, was somewhat of a cliffhanger. Will things make a little more sense here? Well...read on and find out!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 4: From One 

The sound of steps echoed down the small residential street. Trees swayed slightly in the evening breeze as the sun set below the horizon.

Hermione ran, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement. Her breathing heavy, she ran and ran, tears falling from her eyes, every fiber of her body trying to put as much distance as possible between herself and what lay behind...

In an instant, she lost her footing – with a small cry of surprise, she fell over, stumbling (luckily) into a patch of grass.

The weight of the world crashed down on her as she lay, sobs shaking her slender frame. 

Why........??? Why had he been there...? Back to invade the patchwork realm of her life...??? 

Her tears fell like rain as the horrors of the past began to creep back into her tortured mind.

It had been hard enough to experience those nightmares in real life...and once upon a time, she had thought that those evils had been buried deep, away from reality.

It had taken only one evening to eradicate all that.

Answers would not come to her, would not respond to her silent screams for understanding. 

Instead, the memories of a life long gone flooded back into her, forcing her to relive times she would have begged to erase forever...

*     *     *

_"Harry...?"_

_Hermione ran through the once flame-lit hallways of Hogwarts – now they fell in darkness. _

_But this was no darkness created by the passing of the sun...it had come because some evil had descended on the school, blanketing the walls with its evil._

_Since that day of the End of the Year Feast, it had grown worse. People were afraid to leave what little protection they felt Hogwarts had left._

_It was something foreign to all of them – never, not once in their time here, had they known the castle to be under the influence of some other forces._

_Something was taking over their home..._

_"Harry," she called out desperately, the need falling from her voice. "Where are you...?"_

_Her worry for Harry had only increased in the time since Sirius' death. Distant, cold...he was no longer the Harry that she had come to know and love as her best friend._

_The coming darkness had blinded everything, had fallen over what had always been sacred – and yet, it had seemed to hit one person harder than the rest._

_She ran, frantically searching for him, knowing that Ron was only a few floors below her, doing exactly the same thing._

_It was more than just concern for her friend that drove her body – it was a primal fear, above all others, that something was playing him...toying with him. _

_And that if they didn't stop it..._

_...that would be the end..._

_~{:*:}~_

_It had been hopeless – she, the most thorough of people, had searched every facet of any place she thought Harry might be._

_Nothing._

_It was unbearable: the thought of her friend, alone in the dark, letting the pain of recent events consume him...moving further and further away from all he loved._

_And then..._

_She almost didn't hear it – a soft breath. She stopped, her ears straining to hear..._

_Again, the breath sounded...right next to her._

_She spun to the side, but there was nothing there. Just a wall of the castle's brick._

_Again, again, again, the breathing sounded, definitely coming from that wall._

_She looked down the hallway, and suddenly, realization hit her. She knew where she was, and where the breathing was coming from._

_Desperately, she thought of Harry, of needing to find him..._

_Slowly, she opened her eyes...and there it was..._

_The door leading to the Room of Requirement._

_She moved forward and slowly opened the large wooden door (which, thankfully, didn't make a sound)._

_It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but when they did, she quickly held in a gasp with her hand._

_The Room looked much the same as the last time she, along with the rest of DA, had set foot in it, seemingly ages ago._

_But now, entirely, it was somehow different. Darkness plagued the Room – whereas before, torches had glittered upon the walls, now the Room fell in shadow._

_  
And there, at its center..._

_She could only see his back, but in an instant, she knew it was him. His hair, ruffled slightly, shone out against the sparse light that filtered in from the outside._

_She heard his breathing again, it sounding more and more labored. With a choked whisper, she called his name._

_"Harry..."_

_Immediately, his shoulders stiffened. For what seemed like an eternity, he stood there, his back to her, seemingly a statue of stone._

_With painful slowness, he turned...until he was facing her. Another gasp came from her, and this time, she didn't bother to stifle it._

_His face was the same, but a pure, unadulterated rage sat on it. Never, not once in their long years of friendship, had he ever looked at her that way._

_And that was when she noticed his eyes. No longer were they their usual emerald green..._

_...now, they had turned gray, give their appearance and air of lifelessness._

_She moved forward slightly, her arm extended...her need to touch him, feel that he was still real, overwhelming every other coherent thought..._

_"Don't touch me!!!"_

_She jumped back at the sound of his voice. It wasn't Harry's – he would never have spoken to her like that._

_He growled, a strange inhuman sound, and took a step towards her._

_"You filthy Mudblood – how dare you come here. Trying to gloat in my face??"  
  
_

_Hermione's mouth dropped slightly as tears started to form in her eyes._

_He had called her Mudblood...Harry, her dearest friend, had hit her with the foulest slur imaginable._

_And now he thought she was here to gloat??_

_"Harry..."_

_"DON'T YOU DARE SAY MY NAME!!"_

_He took a few more steps towards her, causing her to shuffle backwards awkwardly._

_"You are the reason Sirius is dead. You are the reason Voldemort hates me. If it weren't for you and your wretched kind, Voldemort wouldn't give a damn about me!"_

_Confusion rocked Hermione – this didn't at all make any sense..._

_Harry sneered._

_"Don't look like you don't know what I'm talking about! You know perfectly well!"_

_With a sudden surge forward, he had her by the scruff of her shirt, his powerful arms lifting her into the air._

_"I hate you!!!"_

_With a sudden motion, he threw her forward, causing her to smash into the Room's door and back out into the corridor. _

_She hit the floor hard and skidded back into a wall. Tears flowed freely from her eyes as she looked up at him._

_What...what had happened?? Not three weeks ago, at the Feast...he had been different, but still the Harry she knew._

_Now..._

_She stood up, blind panic overriding her sadness and confusion. She whipped her wand out._

_"Flippen..."_

_"EXPELLIARMUS!!"_

_His words cut through hers, and in an instant, her wand clattered on the floor, far from her grasp._

_A look of pure malice came across his face as he raised his own wand – his gray eyes seemed to glow._

_"CRUCIO!!!!"_

_Pain, pain like nothing she had ever felt before, filtered through her body. Her screams shook the hallway._

_And then, just as it had begun, it was over._

_"Oh, you think it's over, do you? You haven't tasted my wrath yet, Mudblood!"_

_He raised his wand again, opened his mouth..._

_But the incantation never came. Instead, a jet of red light hit Harry in the side, causing him to fall heavily to the floor._

_Disbelief, along with her slowly draining adrenaline, ran through Hermione. Slowly, she looked up._

_Ron stood there, his wand pointed at where Harry's body had once stood. He continued to look, dumbfounded, at his fallen friend before allowing his eyes to find Hermione's._

_In an instant, she was up, running towards him. She flung her arms around him and sobbed into his robes. He held her tightly, his eyes closed._

_When he opened them again, he realized that they were not alone. A tall figure now stood over Harry's body, eyes sad through the glassiness of the half-moon spectacles._

_Ron knew what it was that Dumbledore felt. It was the same thing that he felt now._

_And as he stood there, holding a shaking, crying Hermione in his arms, he began to realize that evil had penetrated further than he had ever thought imaginable._

_And with that realization, tears began to fall from his own eyes._

*     *     *

Hermione lay there, on that green expanse of grass, her sobs quieted down to soft hiccups. 

"Hermione..."

She looked up, and saw him there. He reached down and helped her to her feet.

"Come on, let's get you home."

She nodded slightly, allowing Ron to gently lift her up and carry her. Soon enough, the soft rocking of his stride brought her into slumber.

For his own part, Ron hated the fact that Hermione, even about himself, was having to relive memories long ago buried.

And as he carried his friend onward, he wondered how long it would be before he and all he loved would be free from evil's deathly grasp.

He wondered how much longer they would all endure...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**A/N: **I'm fairly certain that you will be a little stumped as to how things fit together so far, but bear with me. Suspense, suspense, suspense!****

**Emerald Prongs: **Hey! Thanks for all your support. I really appreciate it – sorry it has taken so long, but school wears ya down. :-\

**A.L.T2:** Aww man, I'm especially sorry to you – I know you hate to be kept waiting. I hope to post more in the months to come.

**Lily: **Hehe, glad you like so far – I'll be interested to know if, since last chapter was creepy to you, this one was moreso. Thanks for your reviews!

**Darkwriter:** Haha, thanks for the review. I hope to see more of you in the future.

**MLynnBloom: **Hahaha, sorry to leave you hanging as well – hope this whets your appetite for a little bit. Thanks for being such a loyal reviewer – it means a lot!

**Jessie C:** Hey Jess! Thanks for the reviews! Sorry I haven't been around FF.net for a while, but school is killer. ;)


	5. Goodbye Again

**~ All There Ever Was ~**

**Author: **Bachy A

**E-Mail: **screenwriter7@msn.com

**Website: **www.remnant-archive.0catch.com

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter...neither do I own J.K. Rowling. I don't own Warner Brothers – basically, I own nothing even closely related to Harry Potter. This story is meant to be pure fiction created by me using the characters of this series.

**SPOILERS: **None! Yay!

**WARNINGS:** Some cursing.

**UPDATES: **Things are a little interesting now, eh? On we go (BTW, I'm soooo SORRY that it's been so long. School has really kicked my butt).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 5: Goodbye Again

Ron sat in the darkness, his mind swirling with activity. Sleep would not find him this night...even if he had desired to fall into slumber, it wouldn't work.

Pain...memories of a life lived so long ago...seeing Hermione like that, seeing what just a glimpse of Harry had done to her...

It burned his blood with anger.

Somewhere, long ago, this would not have been a concern to him, or rather, a concern to _just_ him. It would have been something that at least two thirds of their team would have dealt with. If something were happening to Hermione, he and Harry would deal with it...so it had been for so very long.

That had been the way of things, the way of the world. But no longer.

He sat there, the pain and sadness left from so many years gone by slowing stewing inside him. His eyes lay in the recesses of his head, slightly glazed over, the cares and concerns of the physical world passing him by.

And every so often, in the soup of thoughts that ran through his troubled mind, he would see _him_. He was always standing there, that smug, mocking look on his face, as if the world he had constructed around those who had once loved him was every bit in his control.

A small hiccup of oppressed anger escaped Ron's lips. It was that face..._his_ face...that had brought him back into reality. And now, as each moment passed, it was all that ran past his eyes.

Control...everything had been under control. And yet, it had taken only one instant to shatter all that...

Later on, he would look back and wonder what possessed him to do what he had been about to do. But at that moment in time, all that seemed to drive his mind was Harry's face, and all the hatred associated with the sight of it.

He wouldn't remember standing up from where he was crouched...he wouldn't remember grabbing his cloak...we wouldn't remember much of what he did that night.

But that didn't matter. Not at that particular moment.

Without a glance back, Ron disappeared with a small _pop_, knowing as he apparated that this would change things forever.

*                        *                        *

Walking back into the Ministry restaurant, Ron had meant to march up to Harry, grab him by the scruff of his shirt and throw him throw the nearest window he could find.

He brushed past waitpersons and traipsed up to the table where Harry had been sitting only hours earlier.

Nothing. There was no one there.

Anger flaring in his face, he stomped over to one of the witches who was clearing tables.

"Where is the guy that was sitting over there, a couple of hours ago?" he asked, his anger apparent in his voice.

The waitresses' initial shock at this man's abruptness morphed into excitement when she realized whom he was talking about.

"Ooohh, you mean Harry Pot..." 

An extremely sharp glance silenced her.

"Just tell me where he went."

She trembled a bit as her arm came up, pointing outside. He pressed for more than just that.

"H-he left, m-m-maybe an ho-hour ago..."

Without any warning, Ron spun around and marched to the door. _He_ was out there. 

And now, it was time to confront him.

*                        *                        *

Stepping out into the darkened streets, Ron realized that he hadn't a clue as to which way Harry had gone. He turned angrily...turned again...and AGAIN...

There were at least 4 different routes Harry could have taken. And Ron didn't have the time or the patience to go through them all.

A sharp cracking sound, like glass being thrown against a wall, brought Ron's attention to an alleyway off to his left. Carefully, but still with a sense of urgency, he ran to the passage and peered down its darkened corridor.

There..._there_...

A dark shape was stumbling down the alley, clearly inebriated. Every now and then, it would crash into trash bins and make large amounts of noise...but it kept walking.

In an instant, Ron knew that it was Harry.

Anger returning to his face, Ron charged forward, all his strength going towards propelling him forward.

And before he could realize, Harry was right there. Ron grabbed the back of his black cloak and threw him against the bricks that comprised the alleyway's walls. With no sound forthcoming, Harry's body limply fell to the ground

"You..._bastard_..." Ron growled.

For a moment, the dark form failed to move. Then, ever so slowly, it crawled onto its knees.

"Well, well, well..."

It struck Ron hard to hear that voice so...transformed. It was Harry's, but it no longer held the familiarity that it once did.

That realization created another burst of anger deep with in Ron's chest. Bending down, he lifted Harry up into the air, his adrenaline giving him all the strength he would need.

As he slammed Harry against the wall, Ron got the first real look at Harry's face that he had had in years.

A dark scar ran down the length of Harry's face, starting just above his right eyebrow and ending at his chin.

Harry's eyes, which had once been a bright emerald green, were now a gray the shade of storm clouds.

Everything about him...everything that had once connected him with the life they had lived so long ago...it was all gone.

Pulling himself out of his reverie, Ron shook Harry, slamming him once again into the wall.

But once again, before he could say anything, Harry let out a low growl.

"What's the matter? Can't think of anything to say? Going to settle for trashing me?"

Ron opened his mouth...but no sound came out.

He was right – _Harry was right_.

Snarling, Ron lifted Harry again, this time throwing him into a pair of trash barrels that had been left. 

Stepping over his groaning body, Ron glared down and his former friend.

"You had better stay away from her," Ron said, his voice presenting a courage that was beginning to crack. "I don't know how the hell you are still working for this Ministry...how they would _allow_ that...but you mark my words: if you hurt her again, you will die. Do you understand me?"

Nothing. Harry's body lay there, unmoving. 

Furious, Ron hoisted Harry up again.

"I said, do you understand me?!"

Once again, nothing. Gray eyes stared back, defiant to the last.

  
For the final time, Ron threw Harry across the path. His body landed roughly on the pavement.

It was then that the emotion in Ron suddenly drained. For just a moment, his eyes glazed, and he remembered a time, long ago, when he and Harry had fought over the happenings of a certain tournament that had been held at Hogwarts.

Long ago..._so long ago_...

And then, as quickly as it had arrived, it had gone. All that was left was him, standing there, watching the pain-wracked body of his friend.

Quickly, without another word, he turned and left, the alleyway giving him no comfort.

*                        *                        *

Harry watched Ron leave, watched him walk away.

Lying there, he began to feel. The clouds in his mind parted, just for a second, and in that instant, he could see his pain, his hurt. It hurt him to no end...

Even more than the thought of what Ron had just done to him, it hurt Harry terribly to think of Hermione, and what he had done to her.

_What he was still doing to her_...

And, just before the darkness came back to envelope him, Harry Potter lay there, in that alleyway, tears streaming because of all that happened, and because of the endless wondering if it was ever going to end...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**A/N:** WOW! I'm back! Sorry, as always, that it has been so long. I can't seem to keep my promises. Sufficed to say, I plan to spend a little more time around her, acclimating myself again.

For now, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope to hear from all of you soon.


	6. Ascension

**~ All There Ever Was ~**

**Author: **Bachy A

**E-Mail: **screenwriter7@msn.com

**Website: **www.remnant-archive.0catch.com

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter...neither do I own J.K. Rowling. I don't own Warner Brothers – basically, I own nothing even closely related to Harry Potter. This story is meant to be pure fiction created by me using the characters of this series.

**SPOILERS: **None! Yay!

**WARNINGS:** Some really dramatic stuff. It might scare some people, it might offend others, and I apologize, but hey, drama's what we're all about, right?!?

**UPDATES: **I've realized that the last two chapters or so are just dancing around...so I've decided that we need to move forward.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 6: Ascension****

A quiet, gray morning descended on the Muggle area known as Lower Westoria. All around, families were grudgingly getting out of bed, preparing as best they could for the day that lay ahead.

At number 12, East Tillet Road, John Dalinns sat down at his breakfast table and opened the daily post. Above him, he heard the movements of his wife, no doubt trying to get their son to take a bath.

At first, nothing of interest leapt out of the pages at John. Bits and pieces of meaningless information drifted to his eyes, but without any real recognition.

It was when he had a spoonful of porridge halfway to his mouth, with some jargon about the queen's latest fashion foray into London crossing his brain, that he felt it.

At first, he thought it was an earthquake. It took him only a moment to realize that this tiny suburb laid nowhere near a fault line.

He rose to his feet, slowly, his heart beating just a little faster. The shaking beneath his feet was growing...

...and suddenly, _ever so suddenly_, the sky had gone from a pasty gray to a dark shade of burgundy. 

Terror lining his eyes, John Dalinns stepped towards the window that overlooked East Tillet Road. He felt glued to the spot as he watched what was unfolding outside.

In his heart, he knew that he should do something...Run upstairs, grab his wife and son, run as fast as they could and not look back...but in that moment, his body failed him.

A blinding white flash overtook everything, and in that instant, with what little consciousness he had left, he wondered who was screaming...

...and then, nothing...

~

A small, yet persistent beeping was what woke Hermione Granger from her troubled sleep. At first, she had been convinced that it had been part of her dream, but when she rolled over, she realized that the sound was emanating from the tiny, Muggle alarm clock that she kept by her bed.

She rubbed her eyes, trying to clear them, and looked more closely at the clock. When finally she saw it clearly, she gasped.

She was late. For the first time in her professional career as Mistress of Magic, she was late.

She leaped out of her bed and rushed for the restroom. _Unbelievable_, she thought, _simply unbelievable_.

As she started to brusquely comb her hair, she tried to recall what exactly, if anything at all, could make her oversleep like that.

And then...she remembered. A small clatter rang as her hairbrush hit the floor.

_Harry_..._Harry Potter_...

That name sounded so foreign to her now, as though she were hearing it for the first time. As though she had not heard it once during the past decade...

She shook herself. This was no time to be reliving painful dreams. There was work to be done.

~

Five minutes later, Hermione was dressed, having done her best to look presentable. She trotted down the stairs of her flat and was grabbing her attaché case when she stopped.

Ron's head was floating in her fireplace. Green flame danced out from behind the dismembered cranium.

"Ron, what are you...?" she began, confused. It was quite unorthodox to use the Floo Network to connect to the Mistress' private residence.

A terse nod cut her off. 

"Hermione," he said, sternly but without any recognition of anger at her being late, "you need to get over here right away. We've got a situation."

And before she could inquire further, Ron's head disappeared with a small _pop_.

Confused as to why he couldn't tell her what was wrong, she grabbed her traveling cloak from the coat rack. Swiftly putting it on, she apparated from her home.****

**~**

The instant that she appeared in her office, Hermione could tell something was gravely wrong. Shouting rang through the halls; sounds of pandemonium were rampant everywhere.

Quickly putting her things away, Hermione stepped into the hallway. An enormous group of people stood gathered, all craning to see something in front of them.

She strode forward, commanding silence from Ministry officials as she passed. She reached the front of the crowd, where Ron stood, talking with Ryan Johnson and Elena Robinson. Their conversation stopped as Hermione came to the front.

"What's going on?" she asked, her eyes never leaving Ron's.

Ron glanced down, as if the words he needed were too far away for use.

"We had something happen in a Muggle residential area early this morning..."

Robinson stepped forward, holding a very large piece of parchment. On it was imprinted a map.

"This represents a visual key of the lower end of the Westoria district in Manchester, Mistress. It is a very large Muggle neighborhood, housing nearly 10,000 inhabitants..."

"I am familiar with Westoria, Elena. Let's move onto what exactly the problem is," said Hermione, calmly.

Robinson nodded. "Yes ma'am."

She gestured for Johnson to step forward. While Robinson held the map, he tapped a corner with his wand.

Instantly, a large chunk of the map began to burn away. After a few moments, during which the remaining pieces of charred parchment fell to the floor (and disappeared), Johnson used his wand to point at this now non-existent area.

"At approximately 7:02 AM this morning, a large flash was seen in the sky over this section of Westoria. Exactly six seconds later, it was gone."

Hermione's eyes opened a little wider. 

"What do you mean, _gone_, Ryan?" she asked.

"Gone, Mistress. Decimated. Left in ruins..."

"We sent out a team of Aurors, disguised of course, to ascertain the damage," said Robinson. "The reported back just a few minutes ago: the damage is total."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't understand..."

"This has evidence of wizardry behind it," said Ron, now stepping forward and facing the map. "The flash, the controlled radius of damage, the fact that no one from this area of Westoria survived while every other bit of it remained untouched...not to mention the bodies..."

"What do you mean...?"

Ron reached inside his robes and pulled out a photograph. Hermione took it and glanced, seeing a team of disguised Healers bustle about the body in the center of the picture.

"The Healers reported that there is no physical damage to the victims, but they are quite dead."

"Like _Avada Kedavra_..." said Hermione, frowning.

"It has the same effects and end result as _Avada Kedavra_, but whatever this is, it has the ability to hit a large range of people within a rather confined space."

"And...well...that isn't the worst part, ma'am," said Robinson. He reached into his own robes and pulled out another photo. He handed it to Hermione.

She watched as a Healer rolled on of the bodies over, and gasped as she saw what had been seared into the man's flesh.

A skull intertwined with a snake...

...The Dark Mark...

"Voldemort," she whispered. She ignored the tiny shudders that ran through the officials.

"It doesn't make sense, Mistress. Voldemort has never been one to openly attack targets like this..." 

Hermione turned away from the group and looked out of one of the many enchanted windows. For a moment, her eyes seemed to lose their focus as the weight of what had happened settled on her.

A tremendous section of Muggle territory, obliterated...and the bodies...bodies with the Dark Mark seared into their once living flesh. 

Elena was right – it _wasn't_ Voldemort's style to attack in the open, in such a fashion that would instantly bring attention from everyone in the wizarding community (not to mention a large group of non-magical people). Subtlety was his suite.

That left only one option: someone was acting, someone either in the employ of Voldemort...or someone acting on their own.

She had to forcibly remove herself from her thoughts, back into the present. She turned to her advisors, feeling their terrified stares sinking into her.

"This is what needs to be done," she began. "Damage control is our first priority. We need to wipe the memories of all Muggles within a 50 mile radius of the blast site."

She walked over to another map, this one hanging on a large wall. Blinking dots moved over it, denoting where each and every Auror was located.

"Second, I want containment," she said, pointing to dots on the map. "Bring Richards, Wilson, and Owens in from wherever they are and set up a perimeter around this area. We don't yet know why it was attacked – regardless, there must be something of some significance there. We have to ensure that nothing else gets through."

"Finally, bring everyone in. I want all MoM operatives worldwide to drop what they are doing and return here."

"M-Mistress, we can't do that," said Johnson, nervously, "Even if we..."

"I understand your concerns, Ryan," said a terse Hermione, "but it is what I want done. If Voldemort is the perpetrator behind this, we are going to need everyone."

Robinson stepped forward.

"Mistress, what if it _isn't_ Voldemort...? If someone else is behind this..."

Hermione, nodding, said, "Yes Elena, I know. If someone else is behind this, we will be leaving a worldwide hunt of Voldemort to track him down."

She reached up to the map with her want and tapped. Slowly, more dots began to appear, each one bigger than the dots representing single Aurors.

"I want Center Cells activated – if we are going to bring our Auror fleet home, we need, just as you said Elena, protection. We can't completely abandon the track."

"Does everyone understand?"

Officials nodded, a certain terror still plaguing each of their faces. Slowly, one by one, they each departed Hermione's presence. After a moment, only Ron was left.

She gestured for him to follow her to the Mistress' office. Once inside, she closed and locked the door. Once she had slumped into her chair, Ron could see the look on her face clearly.

He understood – she couldn't have let herself slip; she couldn't have let her Ministry officials see her break down. 

But now, behind closed doors, with only her best friend in attendance, she let herself go.

"Oh God, Ron...what am I supposed to do?? I don't...I d-don't know what to do..."

Seeing his friend on the verge of collapse, Ron rushed to Hermione's side.

"Hermione, listen to me: you did exactly what you needed to do out there. They saw you being the leader that you are – you handled the situation fine."

It didn't seem like a word of his reached her ears. Panic poured from every facet of her being.

"I j-just thought that th-this would never h-happen to me, I mean when I became Mistress of M-Magic, I knew that this s-sort of thing was a pos-possibility b-because, after a-all, V-Voldemort was out in the o-open and I k-knew that if I got this o-office, I'd ha-have to d-deal with him, and I..."

Ron quickly put his hands on her shoulders, trying to exude calmness over her.

"Hermione, please, calm down."

He held her like that, for a moment, until her trembling had, for the most part, subsided. She gave a soft sob, causing Ron to lift her head, forcing her to look at him.

"Hermione, please listen to me. You need to understand something: this isn't some N.E.W.T. that you left behind at Hogwarts..."

"No, this is the real world, Ron, and the real world has consequences for all of my acti..."

Quickly, Ron's hand covered her mouth.

"Let me finish – this isn't some test where the 'fate of the world' rests solely on you. You have people all around ready to help you. This isn't a burden you have to share alone."

She slowly brought her gaze back up to his – tears were streaming down her eyes, smudging her makeup.

"We're all here to help," said Ron, absolute conviction in his voice.

That was all Hermione could take. With another sob, she fell into Ron's chest. Holding her there, slowly rubbing her back, Ron prayed that strength would come to them all.

However...in _that_ particular moment...another thought entered his mind. He didn't know what brought it on, or why his mind didn't automatically reject it, but...

...it was in that instant that he wished _he_ were there..._he_ had always been the one who knew what to do...

And, as the enormity of their current situation meshed with these thoughts, Ron Weasly felt himself begin to cry, too.

~

'I never thought I'd live to see this' was the first thought to enter Norman Cohen's mind. As part of the Magical Accident Reversal Squad assigned to the Lower Westoria disaster, Cohen found himself coming to the conclusion that, indeed, life had become much more complicated. 

Everything here came with the stench of Voldemort – there was no way, in Cohen's mind, that anyone else could have achieved such an atrocity. 

"Hey Norm, want to give us a hand, here?"

Cohen's reverie ended. He stepped over to where Robert Mulson, his immediate superior, was standing alongside other members of the Squad.

Where they stood, the epicenter of the impact crater stood. It was here, they surmised, that they weapon had struck before spreading outward.

None of it added up – they knew that Voldemort was not the type to launch this kind of attack. It didn't make any sense...

His thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt as he looked to his immediate left. There was...no...

"Sir! You'd better come see this!"

He heard the rush of feet on gravel behind him. 

"What is it?" he heard Mulson ask.

Cohen pointed at his feet.

A ripped cloak, it's red shade turned brown, lay underneath the piles of rubble. It would have been easy to mistake it – it had much the same appearance as the surrounding debris.

Carefully, three of the Squad members cleared away the rock and pulled the cloak free. At the clear sight of it, each member of the Squad gasped.

There was a large hole in the very center, as though something had ripped through it with incredible force. Tatters of the cloak's middle flapped in the wind.

Holding the fabric in his hands, Cohen suddenly was afraid. He didn't know what this mystery meant, but he was sure that it meant danger...and, in days where they had all grown accustomed to danger, this seemed to reach further into him than any aspect of the war had yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**A/N:** I'm sorry about that ending – it sucks. I've been trying to break writer's block AGAIN, so I had to just pound something out. If something better occurs to me later, I'll change it.

Just FYI: instead of thanking reviewers at the end of each chapter, I've decided to have individual thank-you's in a chapter at the end. Coolio?


End file.
